


counting on her virtue

by chininja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x02 missing scene, Gen, Sansa being proud of Brienne, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 02:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chininja/pseuds/chininja
Summary: “You have always been a real knight, my dear friend,” Sansa whispers to her kindly, and Brienne is taken back to that time when she has knelt before this lady in the snow - gown sullied and trembling in the cold.How far they both have come since then, she thinks. “It is only now that the rest of the world will truly see what a good and honorable knight looks like. And I am fortunate enough to have her shield my back.”-Brienne is knighted and Sansa is the first person she goes to.





	counting on her virtue

It wasn't the alcohol, but Brienne - Ser Brienne - certainly feels like she's floating.

 

For so long, she's learned to dash away her dreams of being a knight, of fighting for a family and pledging her whole life to them. The world taught her a valuable lesson, after all. There isn't room for a woman in this world unless she's beautiful, a maid, or high born. And Brienne is only one of those three.

 

_ No matter _ , she once thought to herself.  _ I will be a braver knight, more honorable than those in the Kingsguard themselves. I will protect the weak and fight for what is good. _

 

And now at the mere recollection of knighthood just moments before, Brienne allows herself to bask in the warmth that has settled deep within her. There is satisfaction, yes. But there is also an even deeper sense of hope; suddenly ignited and cautiously cared for lest it be blown out by the rest of the world and the cruelty that inhabits it.

 

Brienne doesn't feel entitled to it, she muses as her armor clangs to her movement. But it does feel right. 

 

It isn't until she comes to a stop outside a door that she's guarded with just a bit more familiarity, that she realizes she is bursting with so much joy, there is no other person she wishes to confide in than her lady. When Lady Sansa’s soft voice permits her to come in, Brinne suddenly feels unsure of herself, sticking her neck in first before staying by the door.

 

Sansa is bent over her desk, going over letters she’s read a hundred times before, if only to give her something to do before the battle begins. She turns to where Brienne fidgets, still by the door a trepid smile painting her face. “Come now, Brienne. You’ve been in my chambers before.” It isn’t quite a jape, but it puts this lady knight at ease to be fully present in the room and bolt the doors.

 

“My lady.” She starts, hand on Oathkeeper, hand clenching and unclenching at the pommel.

 

“Brienne,” Lady Sansa greets back. “Is something the matter?” She is observant, her lady, has probably deduced from her composure that something has occurred - a truly splendid something. Well, on top of Brienne’s inability to put on a mask, unlike the highborn lady before her. But Lady Sansa doesn’t push, allowing Brienne the time and space she needs to speak comfortably.

 

“There is something I wish to share, if it’s alright with you my lady?” She manages to voice out, each word doused with doubt of how intimate her relationship with the Lady of Winterfell goes. She has never been made to feel like a servant, oftentimes she comes to her lady’s aid not just as her sword and shield but as her adviser as well. Yet something niggles at the back of her mind - she is after all, still in the service of a great house, no matter how kind she’s been treated.

 

“Certainly,” the eldest Stark daughter’s clear response cuts through her uncertainties. “We are friends, are we not?” The knight’s eyes round in surprise at her lady’s words and gestures for her to have a seat. As a child, the girls from home thought her odd and didn’t want to play with her while the boys thought her amusing at first, until she started besting them at sword fights and then they started to avoid her. 

 

Brienne found an honorable lady to serve in Lady Catelyn. 

 

She found a friend in Sansa Stark.

 

“Now, does this involve the delicate matters of the heart?” the Lady of Winterfell asks, voice light, eyes sparkling with mirth she hasn’t allowed herself to experience in a while. Joy, it seems, is a luxury at a time when they all might be facing their end.

 

“N-no my lady!” Brienne sputters, having been caught off guard by Lady Sansa’s rather playful mood. The lady in question giggles at her friend’s response, the flush coloring her cheeks serving only to put a stamp to her purity. Brienne fiddles with her hands, fingers grasping at Oathkeeper’s pommel to ground her, and wills the warmth from her cheeks to  _ go away _ . But as she tilts her head a little, Brienne wonders if what she wishes to share  _ is _ about her heart. It is only she has never allowed herself to dwell on such things, nor had she ever had reason to do so. 

 

And  _ yet _ \- 

 

Brienne shakes her head, admonishing herself from even considering such trivial thoughts. When she turns to face Sansa once more, she is met with a face open with curiosity whose earlier mirth still lingers upon her Tully face.  _ Best to just say it then, _ she thinks to herself.

 

“I have been knighted, my lady,” she says, her voice cracking a little towards the end. “Ser Jaime, he,” she fumbles for words, uncertain of what to say or even how she feels about the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard’s gesture. “He has been kind enough to have given me the honor of turning me into a knight.” There is a certain tearfulness to the retelling of her knighthood - emotions she’s not had the time to process bubbling towards the surface. She is a  _ knight _ . A dream she’s long buried and convinced herself isn’t important has come true, and all because of the man she -- 

 

“I am a real knight who can protect you now, my lady,” Brienne is unaware of the tears that have spilled over, her joy easily overshadowing any embarrassment she may feel at being so candid before this lady. Her friend. 

 

Sansa reaches over to grasp her calloused hands in her smooth ones, the depths of her lady’s blue eyes shining proudly back at her, and moves to wipe at her knight’s tears with the sleeve of her gown. “You have always been a real knight, my dear friend,” Sansa whispers to her kindly, and Brienne is taken back to that time when she has knelt before this lady in the snow - gown sullied and trembling in the cold.  _ How far they both have come since then, _ she thinks. It is a true pleasure for this knight to have witnessed her lady’s growth and to be considered her friend and to have her confidence. A squeeze at her hand brings her back to the present.

 

“It is only now that the rest of the world will truly see what a good and honorable knight looks like. And I am fortunate enough to have her shield my back.” She doesn’t cry, the Lady Sansa. But Brienne does notice that her eyes have gone glassy, and so she grips back the smooth hands that have so encased hers. 

 

“I am truly grateful, my lady, that you have made a space for me here in your home,” a watery smile in given to the lady before her.

 

“You have kept your oath to my mother, protected me from those who wished to harm me, and gave me counsel when I am being too harsh or unforgiving,” Sansa looked more like the girl she had been then - open and trusting at this knight whom she owes so much to. “There is no need for thanks, Brienne, but you have mine a hundredfold.” The Lady of Winterfell makes the couple of steps from her seat to where Brienne is and engulfs her in an embrace she only saves for her siblings.

 

Sansa pulls back before the new knight has had time to wrap her head around the affection she has just received. “My dear, ser,” the lady calls her, the warmth in her eyes and tone near palpable. “I am truly glad my mother made you swear that oath before her, else we’d never would have met.” Brienne smiles, wide and gleefully.

 

“I’m certain we would’ve met at one point or another, my lady.”

 

There is a raise of a fine eyebrow. “How so?” she asks, intrigue laced in her tone.

 

Brienne shrugs a shoulder, her armor rustles in return. “The gods have never been truly good with either of us, my lady, but they did bring us to each other,” she pauses then to look at blue eyes that consider her words carefully. “I think perhaps that if they were kind enough to do so now, they would be kind enough to do so in any other circumstance.” This Brienne believes with all of her heart. She hasn’t always found a place in her family. But here in Winterfell, with this particular Lady Stark she serves, with Podrick, and even kind Ser Davos, Brienne has somehow fashioned for herself a family.

 

They continue to talk, well into the night, Sansa trying to needle out if this new knight might have feelings for another golden haired, green eyed one. It is not conversation she is used to, but Brienne imagines this is what having a sister must be like, and it only makes her feel fondness for the strong lady before her.

 

Later, when the bells ring and the darkness threatens to overrun them all, Brienne will think back on this. Because while she will always fight for the living, there is a family she wishes to protect.

 

(And perhaps a one-handed knight she can allow herself to be just a little enamored with.

 

Only a little.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated :)
> 
> Also chininja on tumblr. :)


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